


Galactagogue

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Intimacy, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Nursing, Nursing Kink, Pining, Rorschach Has Issues, Weird Fluff, canon-typical horribleness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for male lactation on the Watchmen kinkmeme with no specified characters or situation.  And then someone suggested Dan nursing Rorschach in a sexy way and I was the only one weird enough to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it takes him by surprise, so soft after the confused clawing of their shared lust. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but a punch to the face seemed a lot more likely than what did happen. Still trembling from a climax so strong it had been like a seizure, Rorschach had blindly nuzzled Dan's chest, half-masked face sticky with heat as he kissed one nipple with chapped lips, then latched on and suckled. Dan's nipples had never been a huge screaming deal, but this was definitely better than a kick in the head, and he shifted to make it easier, Rorschach letting go only when he slept.

Dan hadn't realized how far it had gotten away from them until now, aching in the soft grip of Rorschach's mouth. It's been a long, hard night, and they've both been needing this. Dan supposes it's par for the course that they've never even talked about it; this weird, ridiculous and lovely thing that has become a ritual whenever they sleep or wake together. Rorschach makes tiny, pleased whimpers, nearly inaudible against Dan's skin, cooing as Dan slowly rubs his back, cradling his head in the other hand. Dan has gotten more sensitive over time, and now he moans softly as Rorschach switches sides. His partner shivers, and keeps going. They're both hard again, the first round taken care of with messy handjobs in a rush to get to this soft warmth.

Dan sighs, rubbing slowly along Rorschach's belly, making him whine. Rorschach clings to him and ruts against his thigh, the pained note of real arousal coming into his voice. It's muffled, because he still hasn't let go, reaching to roll the other nipple under his thumb, mewling softly.

"God, Rorschach..." Dan whispers, his hand sliding to the back of his partner's neck.

"Daniel." He pants, voice hoarse. He licks the pink nub and Dan whines, watching him. There are times when he thinks about what people would say if they knew and how fucking humiliating it would be, but moments like these are not among them. His untouchable partner so tender, so human. While some sort of sex is going on, no less. He's covered in brutal marks from Rorschach's idea of lovemaking, and he loves every minute of it, but there are times when he wishes the schizophrenic bastard could mix During and After. It looks like now might be the time as Rorschach moans softly, switching sides again and trembling all over as Dan reaches down to touch him. He returns the favor, and it isn't long before they're coming again. Rorschach whimpers helplessly, his free hand flying out to claw at the sheet, as if to scratch Daniel would be a betrayal while he's... let's face it, nursing. The realization barely has time to glance off of Dan's mind before he's not thinking about anything at all.

It takes forever to work up the will to clean up, and still longer to get back to bed (as C.S. Lewis observed, the more tired you are, the longer this takes) but finally the lights are off and Rorschach is cuddled into his arms again. He seems hesitant to perform his usual ritual, but makes a small, defenseless noise when Dan gently guides his head to its usual place. Only after he sets up the same slow, soothing rhythm as always do they sleep. 

Friday afternoon. He knows because Rorschach has some kind of day job and Friday is essentially his Saturday, allowing him to sleep over. And to pull Dan out of unconsciousness with his hungry mouth. Dan purrs before he's even fully awake, pressing into the touch. This used to be weird, but now it's just incredible, the soft, steady tug sending radiant warmth over his skin. Rorschach is pressed against his side, and whimpers when Dan gathers him into his arms, rearranging him more comfortably. He's still syrupy with sleep, and seems almost drugged as he coos softly around his mouthful. Dan chuckles fondly and strokes his latex-covered head, smooth like some kind of undersea animal, and wonders if he'll ever see his partner's face. Here in the warm sunlight, it almost doesn't matter. 

They'll have to get up eventually. Make breakfast, look over their notes and maps and every other way they try to track the sickness of this city. For now he just lets himself melt, hard but not driven to do anything about it, just like his partner. He sighs, rubbing Rorschach's back, feeling all the scars and trying to soothe pain that's no longer there. Rorschach coos, a sound Dan can still hardly credit, and he feels a sudden, bizarre tingling, even on the side where Rorschach isn't, and a strange, sudden pressure, gone just as quickly. It doesn't hurt and isn't all that sexy either, but it makes him cry out softly, more in surprise than anything else. Rorschach whines and pulls back, compulsively licking his lips like a cat. Dan can't see his eyes, but every line of his body says he's staring in shock.

"What..." An exploratory touch tells him. "...Oh. I uh, didn't know I could do that. Rorschach?" He's trying to keep his voice calm, but it cracks on his partner's name. He can be so fucking judgmental, so easily disgusted. And Dan can't see his eyes. Can't see his reflection in them and tell whether or not it looks like a monster.

"Daniel..." He doesn't sound so much disgusted as confused, and that's slightly reassuring. He struggles to speak for a moment, and then expresses himself with admirable economy: "How?"

"Well, men do have inactive mammary glands... and if you just suck long enough you can get pretty much any woman to lactate.... crap, I probably have some kind of hormonal imbalance." He picks up a droplet on one fingertip, overcome by scientific curiosity.

"Sweet." Rorschach volunteers, muted and inscrutable. "Almost like coconut milk."

Dan looks at him in silence for a long moment, fitting things together in his mind. "If you like it, you can have more. I seem to have made it for you, after all." He's scared he's said exactly the wrong thing and that Rorschach is going to bolt, but he suddenly has his arms full of his partner. He whimpers softly as he latches on again, and lets Dan cradle his head like he always does, holding him close.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a week, and he's really starting to lose it. The worst, the absolute fucking worst, is when a baby cries in the street because it makes his fucking tits ache. It's not so bad when he's Nite Owl. Hurts less, and he certainly doesn't feel... milky when he's beating the shit out of people. It's only when he's alone, aching and trying to sleep, or waking up in a bed that seems about three feet too wide without his partner in it, still aching. Rorschach is holed up somewhere following a lead of his own, and Dan will see him when he sees him. He had actually bought a pump (under a false name, for his postpartum wife), but it's not really shaped for man-tit and he doesn't actually produce that much anyway. Maybe a bottle a day, morning and evening together. The plastic tubing makes him think of penis pumps and failed hydraulics projects, so he's down to using his fingers in the shower, the natural condition of man. 

Finding the right motion takes some work, and he bruises himself a little first, cursing. Finally he gets it right, but it's too damn tedious to keep up for long. Still, it eases the goddamn pressure a little. He leans against the wall and groans miserably, hands moving down to a problem he can do something about. If this takes another week, he doesn't know what he's going to do. For now, he moans softly and takes his time, working on a richly-textured version of the fantasy that's been chasing him around in his partner's absence as he presses two fingers into himself. He'll make it. He has to.

In the end, it does go on for another week. Nite Owl's brutality mounting in direct proportion to incidence of Daniel Dreiberg leaking milk. He's simultaneously irritable and weepy, and has taken to hugging his pillow at night and actually using the damn pump because balky and shitty as it is, it eases the pain a little. It's like a case of blue balls in his fucking chest, and sometimes rage at Rorschach for doing this to him whirls up out of nowhere like a dust storm, only to turn into tears because he's still gone. It doesn't help that the weather turns rainy and dreary and lowers his spirits even further. Tonight it's too miserable to go out, and he goes to bed early, feeling lonely and sulky and completely wretched, weeping milk a droplet at a time.

"Daniel." The gravely voice wakes him from an anxious dream, and he sits up. 

"Rorschach. You stopped leaving messages, man."

"Had to. Have had... difficulties." As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can see that Rorschach is shivering, and still in full (soaking wet) costume.

"Hey. Hey, what happened?" He's taking off the hat before he knows it, slinging it aside and unwinding the scarf to toss it the same way.

"Found...things. Belonged to Madeline O'Ryan, Rachel Bolton, Esther Garcia-Ramirez."

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ." That's a cold case. That's an absolute fucking zero case and he never would have let Rorschach out of his sight if he thought he was going to find the East Side Strangler fifteen years after the fact. "W-what... what did you..."

"Panties. A shoe. Hair clips." He reels them off mechanically, not helping or hindering Dan as he unbuttons his coat. "A little silver bracelet. A cellophane windmill." He shivers, seeming to suddenly become aware that he's cold and wet. Dan makes soothing noises as he strips him to the waist, carefully pulling off his black gloves. Rorschach shudders. "Gave him to the police. No statute of limitations on murder." He makes a faint, choking noise, and Dan is pretty sure he's crying.

"Baby." He whispers. "Come here." He pulls Rorschach into his arms. He's stiff at first, every single muscle coiled against his pain, but he slowly relaxes, harsh grinding noises turning to recognizable human sobbing as Dan holds him and rocks him. He's not sure which of them moves toward it first, but soon Rorschach's mouth is where he's wanted it for two weeks, and they're both calmer. Dan pets the top of his mask and murmurs softly to him as he whimpers, the hungry, hurt tone slowly softening. He switches sides automatically, sucking down sweet milk as his heart slows. 

Dan's own soft moaning wakes him up. The sun is beating in through the window and Rorschach's stubble is incongruous and ridiculous as he coos softly. Dan sighs, and moans again as Rorschach's tongue rubs slow circles. His legs open to hold his partner, making him whine. They're both hard, and Dan shudders. "Morning." He whispers.

Rorschach pulls off with a soft, popping noise. "Morning." His voice is hushed and hoarse, but he sounds much better. Dan strokes the mask and guides his head back its previous place, his hand sliding down to rub his back. "I missed you." He murmurs.

"Sorry." Rorschach mumbles softly.

"Ssh." Dan presses him down and he makes a little humming noise. "I just wanted you to know that. I missed this, too."

"Mm?"

"Mm." They continue in silence for a while as the tension in Dan's belly winds tighter and tighter. "R-Rorschach?" He sounds breathless and shy, and it makes his partner shudder.

"Yes?"

"I was w-wondering," he whines as Rorschach nibbles far too gently to hurt, "oh god." He swallows, shivering. He speaks quietly, as if he's afraid of being overheard. "I was wondering if we could... y'know. While you... y'know." He realizes how stupid he sounds, but Rorschach usually understands him.

"You want that?"

"Uh, only if you do?"

"Why?" He licks up an errant droplet and Dan whimpers, flushing deep red.

"Want to give you everything." He swallows, realizing why Rorschach is so fond of telegraphic fragments. Things are easier to choke out this way. "Love you." Neither of them have said it before, so it comes out as a strangled squeak. "Love you, and want to--" He coughs. "I want to feed you while you're inside me, because anything I have to offer is yours." He's barely speaking by the end of that, turning to hide his face in the pillow, still rock hard. He knows Rorschach has heard every word, and he has no idea what's going to happen next. When Rorschach sits up he tenses, blinking when he hears the one thing he didn't think he would: his partner opening the drawer where they keep the lube. He pulls it out and the ink swirls wildly in his mask as he looks down at Dan. "Please?" 

A moment later Rorschach presses two fingers into him, and he groans, the sound rising to a high, needy pitch as he begins to suckle again, the little tugs of his mouth falling into the same rhythm as the thrusts of his fingers. Dan whimpers, and moans desperately when Rorschach slowly slides into him. He holds him close, the two rhythms becoming one and making him come harder than he ever has in his life. Rorschach whines, pausing, and Dan bucks his hips, encouraging him to moan. "Take what you need, baby." He whispers, stroking the mask and Rorschach's freckled back. He can't withstand this for very long, and loses his grip as he cries out helplessly, coming deep inside Dan. They lie there in stunned silence for a long time.


End file.
